pluh–ton-ik
1. pertaining to, involving, or characterized by Platonic love as a striving toward love of spiritual or ideal beauty.
2. (usually lowercase) purely spiritual; free from sensual desire, esp. in a relationship between two persons of the opposite sex.
3. (usually lowercase) feeling or professing platonic love: He insisted that he was completely platonic in his admiration.
If you would have spoken to me, say two years ago, around the time of November 2006, you would have had the horrible displeasure of being in the company of a very bitter, very angry, confused individual, who used good nature and compliments to try and cover up his horrible distaste of life itself.
At that time, I was very set in letting others know about the lessons that life had taught me a few short weeks earlier; there is no such thing as platonic relationship. However, in those times, I preferred language which was a bit more colorful: “FUCK BITCHES, WHO NEEDS THEM?”
The reason for my feelings towards women at that time are widely known. I’m sure if you were to pinpoint any of the people even remotely close to my life at that time, you would get a very creative and descriptive account of what had just happened between me and my “best friend”. Throw into the mix more useless drama from my other “friends” at that time, working a night shift at a warehouse to try and get my debt under control, and dropping out of the BSCI program at Mt Royal College, and you had a lost, hurt, sad, upset, angry, determined, prideful and overly conceited individual. Or in other words, ME.
I guess you can say that, thus far in my life, that was my lowest point. I remember walking home in December, in the snow, to my friend’s house at 3:00 am, because I didn’t drive, the buses weren’t running, and I couldn’t even afford a $10 cab ride to his house. I wasn’t welcome to sleep at my own house, and that long, chilly twenty minute walk really got me to thinking. When I got to his house, woke him up to let me in, woke up his dogs, and got a sandwich from the fridge, I was the furthest from being tired, even though I had just worked an 8.75 hr shift of pure manual labor.
I sat on his computer, and clicked onto MSN. Kiko messaged me, and what he said to me then is something which still sorta haunts me from time to time; “What’s going on with you man? Why is all this happening?”
And that’s when it hit me. I always thought that someone needed to knock some random bitch up, or be living in the streets doing crack off some whore’s asshole, before people thought that their life was a mess. But nah.. this was it. Life was a total mess. People had started to take notice. And fuck, they didn’t call me Jeremiah Charles for no goddamn reason. I made shit happen. I was gunna change. I needed to change. I wasn’t going to let one huge rejection from some girl, who clearly wasn’t worth it, ruin my life.
After that point, I fixed it. I fixed life. I patched shit up with my parents. I applied for University. I found some new friends, rekindled some old ones. I got an amazing accounting position with the City of Calgary. I started to save up for a car. I slowly started to let people back into my life. I got a new phone. Got an iPod. Started driving school. Started buying kicks. I went to Toronto for my 19th Birthday. I finally figured that life was exactly where I wanted it to go.
And with that, I started to let go of bitterness. Of resentment. I even talked shit out with most of the people who had wronged me back in 2006. I started to stand up for myself, and really worked on being the person I wanted to be.
And now, a year later, things fuck up yet again. I guess that I became too comfortable with life. Even though I swore I would never become close to another girl for non-sexual reasons ever again, I did. I promised myself that I would never call someone else my Best Friend again, but I failed again. I never wanted to ever associate myself with a set group of people, and again, I find that I’ve let myself down. I guess you cant blame me. Life tricks you.. tricks you into thinking that other people are different. That things change. That whatever happened in the past wont DARE repeat itself.
Aha… and that’s when you get that Slap in the Face from Life. “GOT YA!”, yells Life. I let my content nature rule decisions I made with people, and how close I let myself get to them. You know, people always say that I over think and over analyze things. And because of that, for the past few months, I’ve tried to just let Life dictate where shit goes with people. And, BIG SURPRISE, I end up confused and more without friends than I ever was before.
My alter-ego? Life itself.
And the short, smart conclusion to my endless rants above;
There is, and never will be, any such thing as a PURELY PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP.
End of discussion.
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